Nightmares and Plaid Shirts
by steph2009
Summary: Carl didn't know if lending her a shirt would help her nightmares, but he wouldn't be much of a friend if he sat by and watched Dawn fall apart like this.


**Nightmares and Plaid Shirts**

 **Disclaimer:** BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon. TWD belongs to Robert Kirkman.

 **Summary:** Carl didn't know if lending her a shirt would help her nightmares, but he wouldn't be much of a friend if he sat by and watched Dawn fall apart like this.

 **Inspired by a prompt from OTP Prompts on Tumblr.**

 _"No!" Willow's anguished scream sliced through the morning air. Buffy dropped the knife she had been cleaning, slicing her hand open. It was after Buffy's blood dripped to the ground that Dawn saw her. Tara. Or what remained of her: simply an animated corpse. She stumbled forward, bouncing off the dumpster. Her baby blue sweater was torn and soaked in her own blood. Her throat tightened; a wail threatened to bubble free._

 _In that moment, as she watched Tara drag her hand across the rough brick, she wanted…she wanted to burn the world. She wanted to punch Willow. If they had just stayed together, if Willow hadn't gotten so addicted to magic, Tara would have still been with them. Where it was_ _ **safe**_ _. "No," Willow moaned, "baby, no…god no…" Bile crawled up into her throat. She waited for her sister to fire the gun at her side, but it never came. She looked over. Buffy was frozen. Her eyes were fixed on Tara's stumbling form. It was getting closer. Willow crumbled to the dirty concrete. Xander caught her seconds before her knees could hit the puddle. Anya was frozen by a flipped car._

 _She had been busy waiting on Buffy and missed Xander's arm raising. The earsplitting gunshot made her ears pop as she swung her head back around. Just in time to see a bullet bury itself between Tara's glazed brown eyes. Willow's anguished scream tore at her ears not seconds later._

Dawn Summers jerked awake; the echoes of her nightmare followed her into the waking world. The horrors of the world she lived now were so profound that it haunted her even in sleep. She'd had to kill Melinda and Janice. Then a year after that, she'd had to watch as Anya, Xander, and Tara turned. Seeing members of her dysfunctional family—Anya, Xander, Tara—die and reanimate as walkers then having to watch and help her sister put them down: it stuck with her and haunted her at night.

She fought her way out from her sleeping bag and sat up. The only light was that of the moon; she sighed and curled her knees up to her chest. The memories caused her chest to hurt and her eyes to prickle with tears. She swallowed and tried to fight it. Everyone in camp was a light sleeper; if she made even one sound, they would wake. She bit deep into her bottom lip to discourage herself.

"Stop that," she heard from her right. She jumped and looked over her shoulder. Carl. Damn. He must be having trouble getting to sleep. Dawn had learned early on that Carl was an insomniac. He would fall asleep until early morning. She let go of her bottom lip and hissed at the pain and coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She heard Carl tsk quietly; she dapped at her lip with the edge of her sleeping bag and looked away from him. She felt ashamed that he had seen her like this. Silence fell between them for a few moments before she heard: "do you wanna talk about it?" Dawn swallowed.

"Yes…" Dawn answered, but her lower lip wobbled at the thought, "no." But she felt like if she didn't get it out she would burst underneath the force of her emotions. She tugged her knees tighter against her chest until it was painful. "I don't know…" She finally whispered. She could feel Carl's eyes on her and found she couldn't meet them.

Carl swallowed as he watched her struggle. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her to him and tell her to let it out; but he knew it would be hypocritical. He couldn't keep looking at her dejected form and not do anything. He sighed and looked down. His fingers picked at his sleeve; then, it clicked. There was something he could do for her.

When Glenn left on runs, he would leave his jacket with Maggie woke up. One day, he overheard Beth asking why he did that.

" _Oh, it's silly," Maggie blushed, "but it helps, you know? It keeps me calm, reminds me he's real. That he'll be coming back to me."_ Carl didn't know if such a thing helped nightmares too, but he wouldn't be much of a friend if he sat by and watched Dawn fall apart like this. He nodded in the faint moonlight and made his decision. Before he got up from the sleeping bag, he unbuttoned his top-shirt. The cool air caused small goosebumps to sprout up on his arms, but he ignored it and shrugged off his plaid button-up. He stood carefully. As he crossed the grass, he inspected the shirt; it had been cleaned just this morning and they hadn't had a run in with any walkers all day. It was fine. Dawn probably wouldn't snarl her nose up at it.

Dawn jumped as warm fabric draped around her shoulders. She grabbed the edges of the shirt as her head snapped up.

"Give it back in the morning," he said quietly. Dawn nodded, unsure of what to say in this moment. Her heart gave a small skip as he gave her a quick smile. She took a quick picture in her mind; she wanted to commit each of his smiles to memory because they were rare and fleeting. After his request, Carl turned and walked back to his sleeping bag. Dawn tore her eyes away from him and threaded her arms through the holes. Once his shirt was comfortably on, she looked back toward him. He had turned away from her in his bag. She couldn't stop the smile.

"Thanks," she whispered. Carl's heart skipped a beat. He brought his arm up to cushion his head and tried to ignore the blush that spread across his cheeks.

"Welcome," she heard him mutter back. She smiled just a little wider and shuffled her legs back into her sleeping bag. She laid back down and brought her hands up underneath her head. A warm, almost nostalgic feeling washed over her as she caught sight of Carl's shirt sleeves on her wrists. His scent tickled at her nose. She discreetly pressed her nose to the fabric. It was rare that they were ever completely clean. Thankfully, today had been one of those rare days. Today, things had gone right for them.

She drifted off to sleep with a smile.

And for the first time since the world went to hell, Dawn had a completely nightmare-free sleep.


End file.
